


The Odyssey of the Hobbit and the Dwarf (ON HIATUS)

by Nova_Stardust



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Assassin's Creed Odyssey AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Gen, I'm Sorry, It's basically an overlap of The Hobbit and AC Odyssey, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Not Beta Read, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow To Update, Spoilers for AC Odyssey, Spoilers for The Hobbit, The Cult of Kosmos (AC Odyssey), The main characters are just Bilbo and Thorin, Thilbo, i hope they're not too ooc, not abandoned!, the ring - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-10-26 22:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nova_Stardust/pseuds/Nova_Stardust
Summary: Gandalf -and therefore the Oracle- had said that Bilbo was a necessary asset  for the Company of Thorin's quest, and no one was really sure of why. The Hobbit in question seemed to be as self-conscious as possible, and their journey would possibly involve fighting with far too many Hellens and legendary beasts. What could Master Baggins, a Hobbit more devoted to his books than to his land, possibly give to their fellowship?Why didn't he stop surprising Thorin with every single thing he said? And what were the Fates plotting against them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Historical inaccuracies may be present, same with the lore of the Hobbit and Assassin's Creed: Odyssey; both because I'll be taking artistic license and because I do not know these subjects as much as I wish I did. On another note, it is not necessary to know about AC Odyssey, as it is merely the world used for this fic.  
And now, without further delay, I present you The Odyssey of the Hobbit and the Dwarf!

"By Zeus! Did you see that, Bilbo? It seems like the Gods are arguing with each other again".

Bilbo slightly raised his head from the book he had in his hands to glance at the small window, occluded with furious droplets that almost matched the intensity of the thunders that had captivated his nephew's attention.

"Oh yes, it is raining a lot this afternoon. I pray it doesn't last much, or else the Gamgees will be complaining about their destroyed peonies and irises tomorrow morning".

"But you love it when it rains... I'm sure you wouldn't mind our neighbours' ranting if you could make it pour more often".

And have all of the Hobbits of the Shire stand at their door with aerated looks that would make him feel more of an outcast? No, thanks. Being a descent of the Tooks, infamous pirates of the Island of Cephalonia, he had already been at the end of enough judgemental looks —angry flower growers were _not _something he wanted to add to the list.

After shaking his head in disbelief, he returned his attention to his manuscript, which was coincidentally about the Valerian flower and their properties in medicine. That was a fortunate stroke of concurrence if he had any say in it. The Hobbit, frustrated, massaged the bridge of his nose and then decided to busy himself with afternoon tea.

_Perhaps Gandalf will come soon and bring us some new books; it's been years since he last docked in Cephalonia and visited the Shire_. Although it was perhaps for the better that he hadn't: he was considered a troublemaker and Disrupter of the peace. After all, they cherished the everlasting eudaimonia of their home, and no Wizard or Oracle was going to change those stubborn Hobbits.

As he set two cups of Siderites herbal tea along with the other pastries on the table, Frodo spoke again.

"The sailors are probably praying to Poseidon at this point... I do not envy them. Why would anyone sail if they knew their boat could sink during a storm? Why not stay home, and read a good epic poem or chat with your friends?".

"Sweet, young Frodo- “, he half laughed. “I fear you are more of a Baggins than you are a Took. Come, let's have some tea".

On the inside, Bilbo was glad that the kid was this calm, even if he was barely of age. He remembered his rebellious days with a dash of apprehension, a time where his mother would laugh whenever Bilbo said that he had run off to look for fairies in the woods, while she, in turn, would exchange with him the perilous journeys of her past, never reprimanding him like it was expected of her among the Hobbit community. It was a misfortune that, in the end, it had been the misadventures of his parents and not his own what had confined him in Bag's End and marked him as an outsider to their people. He was starting to sink into reminiscence and nostalgia when Frodo spoke again, breaking the silence of the rain.

"Bilbo, do you know who Gollum is?".

He tensed after hearing that name, remembering the little Gandalf had told him about the creature and its vicious ways.

"Who told you about him?".

"No one!" His nephew's blue eyes were wide open, yet he presumed that such a reaction was a response towards Bilbo's bewilderment rather than to the story he was about to spit out. "There were some Hobbits of the coast of Koliadi who were muttering about him and speculating about his motives. They were concerned because he hasn't been around the emporium so far. So, we were talking about pirates and sailors just now...Do you think he might be...?"

"A ruffian, a menace? Who knows what that _thing _is. I only know that he's up to no good, especially if the rumours you heard are true".

"You're not going to confront him, are you?” Frodo said, half a smile —a bit sheepish if you were to ask Bilbo— propping up in his visage.

"With this rain?! Of course not! I'm a Took, not a fool", he joked.

"Uncle, please...".

The Hobbits shared a look, and suddenly Bilbo understood Frodo's concerns: he didn't want to be left alone once more. He ruffled his nephew's soft, curly dark hair affectionately and promised him that he would not partake in another of his wild shenanigans.

But he did. And, of course, it was all thanks to Gandalf.

The Grey Wizard, as he liked to call himself, had knocked on his door a few days after that without a warning, and he was, for once, not alone.

"Bilbo, my dear old friend! Khaire!".

The wizard hadn't changed at all since his last visits, and neither had Bilbo's stature: the man doubled him in height, and that didn't help with the Hobbit's insecurities —regardless of height being a pure Hobbitish trait. He spared a look behind his old friend, and to his dismay discovered more than enough men to start a Symposium there and then.

"Yes, khaire, Gandalf. I assume that the Dwarves behind you are not here to bring some new additions to my library, are they?".

"Well- no. I-".

"You must be Master Burglar!".

A young blond Dwarf with a beaming smile stood in front of the wizard, ready to introduce himself. Next to him stood another brunet Dwarf who held a slight resemblance with the first.

"Fili! That's so rude. Please, forgive my brother's behaviour, Master Boggins. I'm Kili".

"And I'm Fili".

Then the two of them synchronised to bow at the same time, then chanting "At your service!" in unison before entering the house.

"My pleasure. Oh, wait, no-".

In no time, the Hobbit got overwhelmingly surrounded by Dwarves bowing and presenting themselves before running inside the house, muttering about how hungry they were. Bilbo breathed heavily, glad that Frodo was staying the night at his friend's and was not there to see him in such a stressful state.

"Gandalf? It's not that I don't enjoy the casual guest, but… care to explain what are twelve Dwarves that seem to know who I am doing at Bag's End hunting for food- in your company, no less?!".

"Twelve? Oh, dear Athena. We're missing one".

The wizard came inside as well and started counting the impromptu guests that were then sparse in his lovely house.

"Ah, it's Thorin. Dwalin, do you think your majesty got himself lost in the Shire?"

He was then addressing a sturdy Dwarf, one that missed all of the kindness the first ones had radiated and that carried an enormous axe on his back. All in all, he was the picture of a fierce Spartan with nerves of steel. Bilbo unconsciously retreated a couple of steps.

"Not this once. Still in the ship".

He then reunited with the others of his company, leaving Bilbo and Gandalf alone. It seemed that not all Dwarves were talkative; although the banter that he could hear coming from the andron left much to desire. He was trying very hard not to run into the kitchen or the storeroom, for he knew he'd be horrified. _Take a breath, Bilbo, take a deep breath._ Finally remembering his duties to Xenia, the goddess of hospitality, he rushed to gather as many kylixes as he could and poured some watered wine from his cellar for his guests and silently wishing he had not sent his servants with Frodo for the night. Once he felt more composed and was sure the Dwarves were comfortably eating and drinking, he sent an inquiring glance at Gandalf.

"Well, Bilbo. You are right on demanding for an explanation. But first, tell me: have you heard of anything unusual happening in the Shire lately?".

The Hobbit sighed, resigned. His kind was stubborn, but the man before him was it much more; no point in arguing or withholding information from him.

"Some say that Gollum is back. With which purposes? That I do not know".

"Gollum? Then we have taken longer than expected to get here… He must have known we'd dock here". The wizard strode towards the little writing room Bilbo had and sat on his chair with a preoccupied glimpse on his eyes. "I need a favour, Bilbo. One that I would not bespeak to anyone except you".

Bilbo started fiddling with his silver bangle.

"Did the Gods show you something?".

He knew, after all, that his friend had connections to the Oracle of Delphi, one of the most important in the whole Hellas, and he knew that, whenever the man embraced the sea so impromptu, it was never because of a whim. And that, of course, meant danger.

"You know me well, my dear Hobbit. Well, are you acquainted with the situation of Athens and Sparta?".

He frowned. "Um... of course, they're at war but, as you know, Cephalonia is a neutral area —and I doubt the fierce Spartans or the ambitious Athenians consider us anything other than inoffensive or unimportant".

Bilbo's mind was running fast, trying to figure his friend's plans for him.

"All of that is true, but I've never known you to be one to retreat when others ask for help”, he said, raising an inquiring eyebrow and stroking his long beard. “I reckon it is time for the war to end, and Thorin Durin is the man for the job".

Something in his head then clicked.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but as far as I know, the Durin Dwarves were once native to Messenia, home of the helots that now serve Sparta, before the whole exodus happened. On the other hand, you are Athenian, and so are all of the Wizards. In conclusion: you want to win the war, and you're employing Spartan “refugees” to aid you...?".

"You've misread my intentions: I do not wish to win the war for Athens, I want it to end on civil terms for both of the nations.” The Hobbit raised his eyebrows. As if that explained it all! “Bilbo, I've seen- the Gods have spoken to me, and we must ensure peace, or else the Hellas will be in critical threat. None of the parties would readily agree on a truce, but if there were a fair Spartan King open for negotiations, I'm sure that I could speak on behalf of the assembly and make a treaty of peace".

Bilbo wasn't bearing Gandalf's speech with much enthusiasm. He gulped, and let out a nervous breath before he started railing out loud.

"I still find it difficult to imagine a Dwarf and an Elf or an Athenian without them being at each other's throats... I suppose that your very eccentric plan includes a scheme to bring the Durin dynasty back to the throne and that by aiding them they'll aid you. Alright. I still don't know what that has to do with Cephalonia or with _me!_ —you know I'm not a warrior, I doubt I'd be of help".

The wizard's eyes shone with a vivid light, signalling that he had already plotted the Hobbit's future without asking him for confirmation first.

"All in due time, Bilbo Baggins. But now, let's join the feast: I know you Hobbits are proud hosts after all".

At that point, Bilbo wasn't so sure of that; but he let Gandalf lead him into the andron.

Moments later, the Hobbit had already been exposed to many of the present Dwarves' mannerisms and had unhappily observed how they had made use of his leftovers in which would probably be a mixture of dinner and supper for poor Bilbo. Despite that, he had made use of the gathering and had reclined in one of the klinai as he observed his very peculiar guests: most of them were drinking wine from Bilbo's spare kylixes, chatting with enthusiasm with each other and sometimes even with Bilbo himself, asking anything and everything about him as if they had already accepted him as part of their fellowship. Oh, they were so jovial and lively. He could even spot a young Dwarf playing the aulos! Unable to be angry at the guests who seemed to be so keenly interested in his persona for once, he easily drew into conversation with them. Besides, he could probably use some mirth in his life.

One of the Spartans, whose name was Bofur and that wore a worn yellow exomis beneath his armour in contrast to Bilbo's embroidered Ionic chiton, was now bombarding him with questions about the island and his house as they drank some wine.

"Do tell me, Master Baggins: are there no women at your house? Perhaps at the gynaikon?".

"Oh, no. It's just my nephew Frodo and I, and I doubt anyone has crossed the gynaikon of my place for a long time now". He sipped some of his wine, trying to convey a nonchalant tone. "My parents passed away, and I was an only child, after all".

"Huh", he left his now empty kylix at a nearby trapeza, entertained with Bilbo's words. "So, men —Hobbit males— of Cephalonia don't live in the barracks as us Spartans, but at home with their wives and family, I see". He then kneeled in front of Bilbo's klinē, scooting closer to him as if to examine his face. "But your skin is sun-kissed, unlike the Athenians who prefer to stay at the shadows. Much like us".

He'd later blame his inebriation for his bold stance.

"What can I say?", he ran a hand through his curly honey waves, all while a smug smile curved his lips. "Us Hobbits are nothing like you ought to have seen before: we are our own people, and we keep to ourselves".

"Mhm. It will be interesting to have you on-board". Bofur gave him a slight squeeze on his arm with his leather-gloved hand and returned with the other Dwarves, taking Bilbo's half-filled kylix with him, drinking its remains and letting the Hobbit think about his last words. The realisation had hit him like a bolt of lightning. He didn't know what Gandalf thought his place was there yet, and all he could observe were people who were nothing like him: Gandalf was his candid self, and except perhaps the two young siblings he had encountered at the beginning and the young Dwarf who was playing the aulos —who were wearing like himself chitoniskos, although more worn out and with less embroidery than his—, all seemed to be wearing Doric chitons open by the side. The oldest of those wore bronze muscle cuirasses and the youngest linothoraxes, all equipped with their panoply and ready for battle. Bilbo had hardly ever seen armours with his own eyes, least worn; and the weapons he had ever had in hand had been to hunt. As much as he was enjoying the company of those jovial soldiers, he felt extremely out of place, but Gandalf hadn't said a word yet. If only he hadn't let himself get carried away as he always did...

It was only when the stars started to shine against the dark sky that the banter was interrupted. Someone had knocked at the door, and they all knew who it was. The wizard was faster than the Hobbit and had already gone to open the door to the stranger, the rest of his guests barely giving any side-glances to the pair of them.

As expected, before him stood a robust and mighty Dwarf, wearing a light chlamys as a hood, hiding his long, braided dark hair in a very Spartan style. He was, like many of the other Dwarves, equipped with an aspis, a dory and a short sword, which only made the Hobbit itch even more. Yet, despite his fierceness, he found him unimpressive —perhaps as a result of having hung out with many like him for the last hours—, and waited for Gandalf to make an explanation. Instead, Thorin spoke to the Wizard:

"Is this Master Baggins, the burglar you saw fit to add to our company?".

Straight to the point. _Fantastic_. And for which reason did everyone keep on calling him a thief?

"Khaire to you as well, and welcome to my humble villa. Yes, I am Master Baggins. No, I'm not sure if I'm the burglar everyone expects me to be because a certain Wizard didn't consider it fit to inform me beforehand".

Gandalf suddenly bore the questioning looks of two Hellenes, men who at first sight looked nothing alike but that at that instance conveyed the same level of impatience and agitation. _That seals it_, he thought._ He is the one._

"Now, now", Gandalf said, gesticulating vaguely towards the courtyard. "I very much wish to tell you all the details of this... dangerous quest of ours, but let's find a good spot to do so first, away from the party. Bilbo?".

_By the beard of Zeus_, Bilbo thought. _The man has no shame!_

"I sincerely hope you'll remain true to your word; a Hobbit's patience only goes so far". Before following his friend, he looked back, remembering the rest of the Dwarven company. "Will the remainder of our guests be alright if we stray to the courtyard for a while?".

The Durin heir answered with some sharpness in his tone, almost as if his words explained everything.

"My men have been on their own for ages, and they were all trained as exemplar Spartans".

"What our friend Thorin is trying to say is-" Gandalf put a hand on each of the others' backs, leading them to Bilbo's inner garden as he explained himself. "-that after spending months and eternities scattered around as pariahs, finally being reunited will be more than enough to entertain them".

Once they arrived at the dimmed courtyard, the Hobbit lit a small oil lamp and set it near a stone bench decorated with linen pillows, where he gestured his visitors to sit.

"The Durin line must be truly cast off by the Spartan Royalty if they're sparse", he mused out loud, cupping his chin.

"What have you told the Hobbit?".

Thorin was addressing Gandalf, but the latter hadn't had time to open his mouth before Bilbo replied; he would have none of that: he was right there, no need to speak in third-person! Surely Xenia would forgive him for this. The reaction of the other two was of complete bemusement, to his entertainment.

"I know about my friend's intent on finishing the war between Athens and Sparta for what he probably considers the greater good, and part of your own objectives as well; still, I do not know the entirety of the reason you and your lineage are pariahs or which is my paper supposed to be. You keep mentioning the word burglar, yet I have no clue of what would be so important to be stolen that could fit into this shenanigan, or why it would have to be me-".

"And I told you, Apollo himself showed me how it had to be you", Gandalf offered.

"I know, but that doesn't answer my question. Perhaps you're blinded by the Oracle's words, or you misunderstood their message, as I am but a-".

"A mediocre man and a stubborn Hobbit who doesn’t know how to play host", Thorin completed.

Bilbo stared at the Dwarf, perplexity painting his whole visage.

"Well, you're not wrong; but that's rich coming from someone who didn't present themselves —and that jumped right at the opportunity to judge me without knowing me, Xenia be damned!".

His words had been tainted with a kind of venom he often held back to himself and had perplexed the once harsh and conceit Dwarf, to his own surprise. Gandalf took the cue and resumed the conversation, wishing to end that senseless feud.

"You know well enough that you're not a mediocre Hobbit. You ceased being one with your continuous travels to Ithaca. I shall repeat myself just once: you are needed for this mission". The old man hesitated, trying to find his voice. "As you pointedly deduced, Thorin will need to procure an object with enough power to make the Spartans listen, and I know of no other object of such magnificence and importance than the Laconian staff. Historians have described it as legendary, and some even go as far as to attribute to it the essence of the Tyrant Kronos himself. Others claim that the staff was forged with Adamantine, or that it may be a relic from Atlantis... Whatever might be the truth, it doesn't matter. What does, is that the Spartans would surely respect whoever retrieved the staff".

"I have to retrieve... a legendary staff?".

"Legendary and lost, Master Baggins", Thorin added, apparently finally relieved from the stupor.

"H-how?!".

"I still need to have a word with Elrond and, if possible, with Galadriel to decipher the maps-" Thorin gave a grunt at the mention of the Elves, unsurprisingly. "-but I know that the Company will need a raider that wouldn't be given a second look. With light steps and an untraceable scent. That is… a Hobbit".

A while ago, Bofur had described Bilbo's skin as sun-kissed. If he were to see him there, eyes wide open and as blank and pale as his mind, he'd probably laugh at the sudden change. The once eloquent man was now silent, so Gandalf progressed:

"It will be an arduous and protracted journey, and I can assure you that there will be times when not even the best of the assassins would be able to take your place. The Elves of Phocis —yes, Thorin, it is necessary that we cooperate if we want to assure your success— they rummaged about some trials, worthy of Heracles himself, to retrieve the legendary staff. And since we do not know of any demigod at hand to give them such legendary quest, a stealth Hobbit will have to do".

"Shades of Hades! Are you sure that there aren't any other ways to tackle this?!". Bilbo had raised from the bench, pressured and panicking from Gandalf's speech. Seeing the Hobbit's reaction, Thorin stood up as well and responded to the other's pleas with irritation_._

"Don't you think that the renowned strategists' sons of Durin would have taken another approach, were we not in such critical circumstance? That we have another choice?" The Dwarf started circling Bilbo, winding himself up with every word he said. "I do not know you or your race, of the ones who walk the marsh of your earth barefoot and never dare to sail away from their land. And I wouldn't have docked in here hadn't Gandalf insisted on your _abilities_".

"Thorin...".

"You seem to think that I am a vain Spartan, only aiming for glory, drachmae or a legacy. Is that what you think? But no: we are _Spartans _without a bed, ridden from our homeland by unjust circumstances, wronged and marginalised! And none of my men, my company, would bat an eye to fight for our cause, to die to assure our freedom!" He halted, then staring deep into Bilbo's eyes. "Yet, of course, what would _you _stand for?".

His words had been concise and honest, of that Bilbo had no doubt. He could sense Gandalf's stiffness, and before the old man reprimanded the Dwarf, he spoke for himself —as that was the only thing he knew how to do.

"I stand for nothing but my own life; if that has to be shameful, then so be it. But this- _the Shire_, it's all I've ever known. I doubt...", he exhaled, unsure of how to continue. He gazed at Gandalf, who had raised up as well, and send him a rueful smile as he gave his friend's left arm a slight squeeze. "I'd never last. _Makári_! I wish I were able to, but I'm just Bilbo Baggins, _Mad Baggins_, and not a Homeric hero. Your- your majesty", he faced the Dwarf king anew "I apologise for wasting your time, but I'm not your raider. Stay as long as you wish, but I won't be able to accompany you. I hope that you succeed in your quest. I'll be... ah, doing something, yes...".

He wasn't sure of what he was saying or where he was going, but he was starting to feel very vulnerable. Was he happy for rejecting that opportunity, for choosing his bland life over such an unusual journey? But there surely was no other way!

_"_Bilbo...! Bilbo, do not run away from what you've always fantasised of; I know you're better than that". They were then back where that evening had begun, at Bilbo's entrance. His old Wizard friend was still trying to uplift him and engage him, even as the two of them had separated from the Dwarf, with little success. "You're a curious mind, much more than _Mad Baggins_ and much more than your parents' child. I'm begging you; just sail with the Dwarves to Megaris, and _there_ you can prove your value to them and yourself. Aid them gathering intel and-".

"Wishing and being are different things, Gandalf. You ought to know that. If that shall be my destiny, then the fates will have to send something other than your words to convince me. I'm sorry".

The Hobbit finally secluded himself to a corner of the courtyard where he could gloom and rethink his choices. Not long afterwards, he started to hear the Dwarves leaving his house, all seemingly saddened by him not accompanying them. The last of the fellowship, Gandalf, stood a while longer by his side but said nothing. After patting his back, he left with the Spartans and closed the door, leaving Bilbo with his thoughts once more.

He still wasn't sure whether he had made the right decision, and he surely hadn't moved from the spot. So, when he finally decided to de-anchor himself and start moving, he was surprised to find that he was not alone. Despite the darkness now engulfing his courtyard, he distinguished a short silhouette at the other side, peacefully leaning against a column. A couple of steps towards its direction, he finally discovered its' identity.

"Your company will miss you, Tho- _your majesty_".

"They seemed more affected by_ your _absence, Master Baggins". The once agitated Dwarf now spoke with poise, an image astounding to Bilbo. The former walked closer to the other, his movements collected. "I can't help but wonder: which kind of man stays up late drinking with Spartans he had never met before but then cowers at the prospect of helping them?".

Bilbo let out a breathy laugh. "Are you mocking me? Because I can't really see your face in such darkness".

"Ah, I wish; but no. I'm honestly curious. And confused. Whilst we have easily stepped into a feud, in a matter of hours, you've managed to conquer the hearts of my men by listening and laughing with them, and let's not talk about the Wizard —he would only talk wonders about you".

"I'm sorry, am I speaking with the same Durin heir? That sounded dangerously like praise".

"I don't know: give me a reason to praise you and I _might_".

If he wasn't shaken before, he surely was then. What was one supposed to make of Thorin's words? Too late; it was too late for him to think properly, and so he voiced his concerns.

"Someone once said that there is a time for many words and a time for sleep. I think we're _now_ at the latter. If you're insisting on overstaying, I can show you one of the sparse rooms; but _please_, let us continue this conversation tomorrow when I'm sounder. Would you?".

Truth be told, he must have been exhausted, for he ended up sleeping in one klinē of his andron instead of his bed. He woke early to the singing of the warblers, their whistle soothing to his ears. After stretching, he examined the area surrounding him: were there not scattered kylixes laying around the room, he wouldn't have remembered about the previous day's happenings. That, in turn, reminded him of his unexpected guest, so he paced silently towards his spare room to check on him.

The king was fortunately still sleeping, his back facing the door and his panoply laying close to him. _Blessed Spartans and their mannerisms!_

Considering his choices, he opted for watering his flowers and then preparing breakfast for the two of them. As he placed two plates with bread at the trapeza, he decided going outside for some olives to accompany their meal. And oh, the sun was brightening with such kindness... He could definitely use a walk to ease his mind and think of what to say to his unexpected guest.

He had already gotten to the agora, drachmae and olives stored in the small bags of his belt, when he spotted Frodo, agitated and out of breath and followed closely by his servant. The young Hobbit started sputtering once he got to Bilbo's side, and the latter had to usher him to slow down.

"Bilbo, I saw Gandalf... and some Dwarves! All of the Hobbits started to run away —I think they... oh, it must have been Gollum!".

"Frodo, look at me", he grabbed his nephew's shoulders softly, waiting for him to breathe. "Are they still at the bay?".

"I... I don't know. But-".

"Alright then, go to Bag's End with Dorus and wait there. Don't panic, everything will be fine".

He started to head to the bay, his steps as confident as ever, when he heard Frodo calling him.

"What about you, then?!".

"Well, I guess I'm heading to my own adventure!".

Sometimes he wished he could just shut up. “_My own adventure”, seriously?_

By the time he got to the coast of Koliadi, only Gollum was there, surrounded by the bodies of dozens of sailors; which meant that they were all alone. Luckily, none of them he recognised. The creature saw him, and held some kind of satchel closer to him and ran towards a cave of the bay, and leaving behind any sense of self-preservation he might have had in the past, he went behind him into the cavern.

The Hobbit then felt grateful for the light of the day, which was the only thing helping him see into the darkness. The cave was damp and narrow, and the echo of the droplets falling to the ground deafened any other sound that could help Bilbo locate his target. _What am I doing here? And where are the others? Did they manage to escape?_

"I know you're here, Gollum. And you know where I am as well. I come unarmed, so let's not hide; shall we?".

He heard some footsteps behind him, near the entrance, but before he could turn and investigate the sound a raspy laugh came from in front of him.

"Should we, precious? Should we come and greet the Hobbit?

Oh, yes, you're right, my precious; we do not know the Hobbit's name".

_Suffering Sappho, what was that?_

"Fine, my name is... I'm a Baggins".

The voice laughed anew, and he sensed its owner getting closer to him.

"A Bagsins! Did you hear, my precious? We've never eaten a Bagsins or a Hobbit for a long time...".

"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on —why does anyone have to eat anyone?!".

Again, footsteps were coming from behind him, but he had no intention of paying them attention for the moment.

"Filthy midgets! Those nasty Dwarves tried to hurt us and killed our men! We will hurt someone then!".

In a fraction of a second, he saw the creature launching itself towards him, and he dodged him as fast as his body let him. They were finally close, the slim passage of the cave aiding the proximity, and Bilbo saw the enormous eyes of the pale and deformed creature gazing him with hatred. He wouldn't last without a weapon, so the best he could do was to earn some time.

"Wait! What about... we make another deal?".

Gollum squinted his enormous and wicked blue eyes, wrath turned into disdain.

_"A deal? _What could the Bagsins Hobbit be talking about, my precious?".

"I won't harm you, and you won't harm me. It's a win-win".

"Oh, perhaps we could-!

Liar! The Bagsins has no weapon!", Gollum growled, threatening the Hobbit to get closer.

He really didn't want to die by those hands… or claws… or teeth._ Think Bilbo. Please, Athena, help me._

"It's... an_ invisible_ weapon. I keep it hidden, just like you keep things on your satchel".

The creature narrowed its eyes, visibly pondering his words and holding said satchel close.

"It's a weapon from the Gods, lighter and stronger than any metal", he babbled, grasping the walls of the cave with fear.

"We do not see a weapon! You're lying!" Gollum tried to grab Bilbo's arm, while the other squirmed away. "We will eat each limb of your body while you watch, and we will-".

"Ela! I'm not done talking. If you hurt me, I won't be able to tell you about my weapon. Don't you want to know its secret? Why you can't see it?".

He breathed in, scattering for ideas in his mind that could save him. And then, as if the Gods had heard his prayers, he heard the footsteps again. Oh! Footsteps! Suddenly, he knew they were not alone. _Dear Hestia, please protect me if this doesn't go as planned._

"My secret weapon... are my words. Because they distracted you and we're not alone anymore".

The pale face in front of him suddenly ached in pain and rage, and Bilbo heard the cries of the battle of the Dwarves all around the cave. Someone thrust their spear onto the creature’s head, seizing its screeching to a halt. He felt someone grabbing his arm and leading him out of the cave, but he freed himself from them.

The Dwarves were soon exiting the cave, all patting Bilbo on the back as they left. The figure that had tried to get him out stood at his side.

"My dear friend, I'm glad you came back to us —but we must leave".

He could only gaze at the now lifeless body of Gollum. He'd never grow used to death, even if it were the one of such a burden of the earth. He was petrified.

"I need a moment, Gandalf. You... you should make sure that none of his crew members is around. And you should also find Thorin. He must be home with my nephew. Tell Frodo I'm alive; I'll come later".

Gandalf made a gesture to stay, but decided against it and left the Hobbit alone in the cave.

_There really is no way back, is there?_

He sat on the ground, inches away from the bloodied corpse of his attacker and trying to control his breathing. It had been a matter of seconds what had separated him from death, and the Dwarves hadn't hesitated to help him... the mediocre Hobbit. He knew he'd forever be indebted with them.

After what seemed to be hours, he collected himself and his breathing returned to normal; he stood up and was about to leave before he noticed something unusual on the body. Dubious, he reached for the satchel and detached it from Gollum, examining it as closely as he could in the dark.

There was no doubt of it, it was a _Hobbit _satchel. The vines embroidered in it created a unique pattern, recognisable to any Cephalonian. Why would a creature like him have a Hobbit's possession? His heartbeat accelerated, and he opened the small bag to inspect its contents. He didn't need the light of the sun to see what they were: there was a golden ring encrusted with obsidian stone and a small object shaped like a triangle, made of a material he had never seen before, one that shone with strength by its own. They both held a strange aura, and something told him it'd be better for him to take them. He shoved them into the satchel and hung it on his shoulder as he made his way outside.

"When Gandalf spoke about you, he forgot to mention you were a reckless menace".

Of all the welcomes he would have expected at the outside of the cave, a reprimanding Thorin was not one of them. He searched the bay behind him: the other Dwarves must have put the bodies aside and left towards their ship, for they were alone once again. He sighed; he knew he'd have to speak with their king eventually.

"Khaire to you as well. Do you make a habit of not greeting people, or does that only happen with me?".

Thorin's demeanour was more akin to their first meeting, to Bilbo's dismay. Any trace of jest that could have inhabited the Dwarf’s blue eyes the previous night was replaced with a cold glance, that held a glimpse of… preoccupation?

"You nearly got yourself killed, yet you chased the creature into the cave... for what?".

"I wanted to help".

Thorin scoffed. "Without a weapon? Have you ever even had one in hand?".

"More often than the common Hobbit, but I've only used them to hunt".

"Dear Zeus…” Thorin crossed his arms, then looking at the ground. “You ought to make an offering to the Gods if you intend to sail with us to Megaris and _survive_".

Bilbo's eyes then searched the Dwarf's. Had the other really accepted his position in the company? Was he ready for that? He shook his head.

_Well, Bilbo, you've sent them enough contradicting impressions to back out now. Should have stayed quiet. _He did, after all, owe them his life. And there was only one thing bounding him to Cephalonia...

"I need to speak with my nephew, Frodo-".

"Gandalf already told him about your departure when he came to fetch for me if that's what concerns you. He will most likely be at the harbour by now, waiting for us to say his farewells".

_Of freaking course_. He'd need to have a word with Gandalf about planning ahead.

"Did he pack my clothes, some parchments and ink for me while he was at it? Perhaps even order the servants to take well care of Frodo, the thoughtful soul!".

"As a matter of fact, he did".

"Malaka, that Wizard! Is there anything else I should know?!".

The Dwarf shrugged, seemingly amused by his companion's distress._ At least he isn't frowning anymore_, Bilbo thought.

"I suppose that means I'll be joining your crew".

"Our _Company"._

_"_Alright, I hope I don't fuck it up", he sighed. “We should head to the harbour now".

They started walking side by side, Thorin following Bilbo's movement closely.

"You will never stop surprising me, will you, Master Baggins?".

The Hobbit laughed, not quite sure of what the other man was referring to but feeling more and more confident as they spoke.

"I don't know, little periwinkle blue riding hood. Will I?".

"Peri-what? Is that supposed to mean something to Hobbits?".

"Periwinkle, like the flower! That's the colour of your hood; which is very Athenian if I have a say-".

"Athenian?! I'll show you Athenian, you foolish Hobbit!". He softly shoved Bilbo on the side, allowing himself to laugh at his companion's boldness.

A box full of surprises, indeed. Perhaps Gandalf wasn't so wrong after all.


	2. Chapter 2

He hadn’t noticed until then, that Bilbo might not have had a chance to eat yet. Thorin had wanted to blame his lack of consideration on his stupor upon waking up at the Hobbit’s house, but he had sat down and had his breakfast upon seeing two plates on the trapeza. And so there he was, next to his very gentle but short-tempered host, whose stomach had already begun to protest. For all the time he had spent criticizing him, either to the man himself or to his companionship during the whole journey to Cephalonia, only then he was feeling sorry for the man.

Bilbo seemed to notice his glance fixated on him, and he met his eyes with a pitiful smile as if they were not unknowns, but accomplice old friends.

“Sorry about that, seems like I skipped a couple of meals- “.

_A couple of meals, he says? It’s barely noon_, Thorin thought. The other then searched in one of his little satchels and retrieved a few olives.

“Would you like some? I don’t know if you- “.

Thorin interrupted him, trying to contain his facial expressions as not to expose himself.

“I do not need your olives”.

The look Bilbo sent him told him that his response hadn’t been the most thoughtful, but oh —he was far too used to it, so he let it be and kept walking by his side. From the corner of his eye, he could see his new companion absentmindedly eating some of the olives, guiding them through a path he surely knew like the palm of his hand, without stopping to look at their surroundings. Its hills were covered by milliards of flowers and the sun bathed gently every green and colourful spot of the land. Thorin’s eyes were soon captivated by the narcissus, climbing and decorating the porches of every building with splendid grace. He took a deep breath, a foreign feeling craving inside him as he gave a last glance at Bilbo.

_You have your home at your feet, an astounding sight embracing you, no one has tried to take it away from you, and yet… you just go on with your happy, senseless life, just like that._

It was envy; not that he was going to admit it —or even recognise it— any time soon. He kept walking next to the Hobbit, not a word spoken between them, and tried to ignore the strange looks given by the Shire inhabitants that were not only looming towards him but to the man beside him as well.

The sun was at its zenith when they arrived at the port, where tons of civilians observed the magnificent Adrestia and all of its peculiar sailors with disdain, and they were met by a small Hobbit —at least compared to Bilbo— that had run towards them and hugged his uncle. They started speaking in their own dialect, but Thorin was able to grasp enough words to gather that Bilbo was explaining his partying and that they were bidding they very emotional farewells. He opted for letting the sentimentalism to them and strolled to the Adrestia. Now _that_ felt like home to him: a trireme where his crew waited for him.

“You malaka”, Dwalin greeted him with a sturdy hit to his back and Thorin with an unimpressed look. “While the rest of us slept on the deck you had to stay back and appropriate yourself one of the lad’s klinē, didn’t you?”.

The crew members that were closer to them laughed and Thorin allowed himself to smile jokingly.

“I didn’t, he let me sleep on one of his guest rooms. And dare I say —the pillows were nothing but soft”.

His little public went mad, with Nori going “No way!”, Balin shaking his head in disbelief and Glóin adding a “lucky bastard” before Dwalin came up with his predicament:

“And then he says he’s not privileged… Bloody royals and their prestige!”.

“Yeah!”, Bofur nodded. “We were all at the andron, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who heard you screaming at the poor man. ‘Cause —no, Thorin, don’t give me that look— I just can’t think of a reason why our Hobbit would have let _you_ stay the night”.

They looked back at the port, Thorin’s inquisitive eyes looking for Bilbo and his oh-so-kind smile of his as he spoke with his nephew, and thought about the previous night. Without taking his eyes from Bilbo, he grabbed onto the railing of the trireme and absentmindedly replied to Bofur:

“Don’t look at me. If anything, _he_ was the one who took unnecessary risks”.

“Now, now, Thorin —don’t blame your bitterness on Bilbo’s hospitality”.

That was Balin, his diplomate and supporting paidonomos and advisor… that is if he didn’t go and join the others to mock him. He rolled his eyes and focused again on the crew.

“Even you? Dear Hephaestus, Master Baggins’ been a member of this fellowship for just a few hours and you lot already love him more than me”.

His best friend patted his back, gaining his attention.

“You know I’d trade your royal ass over anything in the whole Hellas”.

He groaned and shoved his friend to the side in a playful way before checking on the rest of the crew.

Soon enough, he saw Gandalf and Bilbo heading to the ship, the latter being ushered away by his nephew, a few servants and some friends of Frodo that had arrived later. The crowd that had been fixated on the Dwarves at first turned their attention then to Master Baggins, the man too busy with his emotions and with the food he and the Wizard were carrying up the ship. Once they were on deck, they started distributing it among the crew and the rowers Gandalf had employed for the trireme. He narrowed his eyes at the Hobbit, who worked his way around without a trace of annoyance or resignation. Something then popped up on his mind.

“Doesn’t he own any slave?”, he asked the Wizard as the pair walked by. And once again, Bilbo answered instead:

“Your majesty, you have the horrible habit of speaking to me in the third person as if I were not right in front of you”. He could already hear some of the nearby Dwarves chuckle at Bilbo’s boldness, and Thorin resorted to furrow his eyebrows. “And no, I do not own any slaves. The last one in my close family died with my parents, and I couldn’t bring myself to sought one after that, so I resigned to pay a couple of servants to help me take care of Frodo”, he said a bit sharply as he gave a plate of cheese and bread to Glóin. The man accepted it and followed the group as Bilbo and Gandalf kept distributing lunch, curious about their conversation.

“Didn’t you have enough drachmae, Master Baggins?”, the redhead asked politely.

The Hobbit relaxed a bit, switching his attention from Thorin to Glóin completely.

“Oh, no! My parents made sure that I never complained about money, so…”. He blushed a bit afterwards, perhaps considering whether it was appropriate to brag.

Thorin stood behind Gandalf, observing Bilbo as he gave the last plates to Bombur, Bifur and Oín and sat with them to chat while they ate. Following the Wizard, he sat next to his nephews at the rim of the deck and ate his dish.

“Mmm… Master Gandalf- “, Fili started, with his mouth full of cheese. “We will forever be grateful for the meals you pay for us. This cheese…”. He made an A-ok hand sign. Gandalf laughed and tried some of the food himself.

Oh, but Thorin knew him better than that: he could spy a trace of cunningness on his eyes:

“This is not your usual pick for us. You didn’t pay for these, did you?”.

His friend merely gestured towards their left, more specifically towards…

“Master Boggins paid for our food?! Wow, we’ll make sure to thank him later!”, Kili said, earning a smug smile from his brother.

“I’m really starting to like this new addition to the team”.

“What, because he fed us?”, said his brother mockingly, and soon they were both arguing and bantering about other topics. Thorin made use of the siblings’ way too common distraction to retake the conversation with the old man.

“He has _that much_ money?”.

Gandalf grinned, looking forward towards the flowery hills of Cephalonia. His gaze seemed lost, absorbed by the memories.

“Why do you think the rest of the Hobbits look at him the way they do?

Bilbo’s parents were both rich and adventurous, and when they were not envied, they were shamed whenever they acted out of the ordinary. I met them, they were a lovely couple, but by Hobbit standards, they were <<too much>>”. He brought his attention back to the Dwarf, although the latter didn’t avert his gaze from the landscape. “You asked before why Bilbo didn’t own any slave. I’m sure he doesn’t because he wouldn’t be able to let someone else take care of him —and because of the spite of doing the exact opposite of what was expected of him”.

They both turned towards Bilbo, Thorin’s mind filling with questions rather than answers. That stubborn Hobbit was intriguing, of that he had no doubt: he was currently joking with Glóin and the Dwarves around them, all captivated by his voice. Still, Thorin couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t sure of whether he was valuable to the team or not: that was Thorin’s way to scrutinize and categorise the people he knew, according to their strategic worth.

So absorbed was he by his thoughts that he barely noticed Gandalf rising and heading towards Bilbo’s group, followed by the siblings, who seemed thrilled at the prospect of speaking with the man.

The Durin heir observed his crew move around the ship: his men seemed to be, for the first time in many years, hopeful for the future. Even if Gandalf’s plan didn’t work, their determination could help them make a stance in Megaris, and relish having some of their rights and properties back, at least. With that in mind, he stood up and went to Dwalin.

“It is time we sail, my dear friend”.

Dwalin made one of his half-cunning smiles and proceeded to give the order as he climbed the pallet to fulfil his duty as a captain. Everyone moved into position —well, all except Bilbo. The man had leapt towards the railing facing the port, wearing a hesitating expression. Back at land lay Frodo and his peers gazing back at him.

“Frodo, my child! Be safe, I’ll- “, he suddenly stopped, avoiding the promise of returning when he realised that he didn’t know if he would. “Don’t let them take Bag’s End from you; and Merry, Pippin- Sam…”. His eyes started to water, and he felt Glóin’s hand on his shoulder. The Dwarf gestured towards them with his head, and Bilbo gave him a thankful smile before descending from the ship and hugging his pupils.

Thorin scoffed. “Is this necessary?”.

Glóin shook his head, sending him a knowing look. “Being a master is like being a father. I was like that before leaving my wife and my child back home, and so were many of us”.

Still a tad annoyed, Thorin exhaled heavily when Bilbo hurriedly climbed the Adrestia once more, positioning himself next to Balin and Gandalf as the ship de-anchored from the port.

“Where to, Phocis?”, Dwalin asked. Balin then pondered:

“In fact, we should make a stop at Ithaca to visit the Palace of Odysseus and make an offering. Gandalf informed us that you knew the place well, Master Baggins?”.

“Why, yes. I go there every year to… well, to celebrate my parent’s passing”, he replied in a meek voice.

“If we stop there, won’t we have to camp and sail tomorrow morning?”, Thorin asked.

“Yes, but it’s better to sail with the Gods’ blessing than not”, Balin argued, everyone agreeing with him. His leader crossed his arms, resigned.

“Well then, to Ithaca”.

The wind favoured them, and they arrived at the island in no time. Once at land, the company followed Bilbo’s steps towards the palace… or what was left of it, which was a maze of destroyed walls and second floors invaded by time and nature, Thorin stroked the beige, old stone, and tried to imagine the heroic Odysseus during his mighty days. The palace, even at that state, was beyond special.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an enormous grey wolf emerged from the runes and leapt towards his nearest pray, that was…

“Thorin, stand back!”.

No, time did not accelerate, but rather they suddenly had less time to think and act. Bilbo’s first instinct had been to step in front of Thorin, grasping his left arm and posing as a shield to the Dwarf once they had dodged the danger. The rest of them started to ready their panoply, all pointed in phalange formation towards the dire animal that was currently circling his first pray and the man that tried to protect him. Its movements, its eyes… that didn’t seem like an animal instinct. Whatever it was, it was dangerous. Even Gandalf had frozen at the spot. It only took Bilbo a flicker of eyes to sense Thorin’s grip on his rusty spatha strengthen behind him. Seeing that they had all chosen fight over flight, he spoke loudly:

“Don’t strike it yet!”.

Bofur threw an exasperated breath. “What do you suggest we do then? Lull the beast to sleep?!”.

The Hobbit scoffed, his posture akin to someone who had already been under similar circumstances and who knew what they had to do: “There’ll be more wolves soon surrounding us, you stubborn gits! You ought to fight those…” His eyes, if Thorin could have seen them, were glassy and foggy with memories of the past. “… And I’ll fight this one”.

Dwalin advance forward, his magnificent axe in one hand and his shield on the other. “No offence, lad, but I doubt you have any experience in hunting”.

Quickly, Gandalf held him back by the arm. “Let Bilbo manage this. Only such a beast would be worthy of a divine sacrifice”.

Having heard the howls of the wolves’ pack nearby and without waiting for the others’ confirmation, Bilbo ran towards his left, making sure that the giant wolf was following him instead of the Dwarves.

“Master Baggins!”.

The Hobbit ran as fast as he could, trying to dodge the rocks of the foundations of the palace and outrunning the wolf. If the cries of battle he heard meant that the others were already charging against the wolves attacking, then he was relieved. For some reason, the adrenaline running through his body was nothing compared to when he faced Gollum. At that moment, he felt like the owner of his destiny.

Once he was closer to a wall that still supported a second floor, he jumped to climb it, earning in the process a deep scratch on his leg from the wolf, which had almost caught him. Trying to hold his pain as much as he could, he kicked it with his other leg and got to the second floor, where an old chest laid. He took a kopis out of it and descended from the building, his right leg aching feverishly.

“It’s just you and me…”. He panted heavily and sent a last prayer to the gods before leaping forward and giving one decisive and clean blow.

“Gods above, forgive me… for this sacrifice shall be a bit unorthodox. May the blood drained now be sufficient to our prayers!”. Once he knew his kopis was bathed in the wolf’s warm blood, he closed his eyes and hoped his parents would be proud.

“Surely, Master Baggins, you can’t expect us to eat wolf meat- “.

“Are you serious, Kili? The man killed an animal double his size and all you can think about is that? The real question here is, how in the world-?!”.

Bilbo chuckled from the rock he sat at, being tended at the moment by Óin. The Dwarves had made a disgusting butchering of half-a-dozen wolves whilst he had been distracting his own prey.

“It’s alright; I wasn’t thinking about that for dinner or supper —there’s plenty of boars around these woods, and fish at the bays”, he made a gesture to get up but winced and Óin held him back. “I could just guide you- “.

“You’re not going hunting, my friend”, Gandalf said. “You shall stay here; I’ll guide the Dwarves around”.

“But- “.

“You don’t have to prove your abilities to anyone after today, and I doubt you’ll be able to run much in this state”.

Bilbo looked down at the bloodied kopis that was then laying at the ground. “Alright”.

“I’ll stay with you”.

Everyone turned around at the owner of the voice, but, as usual, Thorin’s blue eyes revealed nothing.

“A-are you sure? We can- “.

“No, I have to stay. Seems like I have some unfinished business with master Baggins”.

For a moment, no one moved or said a thing, and then, Bilbo made half a smile.

“Well then, behold of any wild creature roaming around, and may Artemis guide the rest of you on your hunt”.

Gandalf and the Dwarves sheepishly smiled back, and slowly began leaving the palace. Thorin sat on the ground in front of Bilbo, his back against one of the monumental stones, and he gave a quizzical look at the Hobbit.

For a couple of seconds, that’s all they did, stare back into the other’s eyes looking for answers; until the Dwarf broke the silence.

“What I don’t make a habit of is of letting people saving me, Master Baggins”.

Bilbo laughed, “Of course you don’t. Well, I hope you’ll excuse me this once”.

For a second, he swore he could spy a little smile on Thorin.

“You truly are something… You know, of all the impressions I’ve had of you, the one that you keep proving to me is that you’re too reckless for your own good”.

“Ha, so much for the mediocre & stubborn Hobbit, huh?”.

Thorin looked back for a second. “Unsurprisingly, you’ve proved me wrong”.

“I don’t know if I should be grateful or- “.

“You could have gotten yourself killed, again, and I don’t get it”. He halted, and looked away, to the palace. “I don’t get your kindness or your bubbly energy that attracts everyone like a magnet”.

“Your majesty”, the other shyly laughed. “I truly don’t think so: half of the Hobbits hate me”.

“I don’t”, Bilbo looked at him, dumbfounded. Nothing had ever sounded so honest on Thorin’s voice. “And please, call me Thorin., As much as I’d like it, I’m still no king”,

Bilbo chuckled and lowered himself to the ground to be at Thorin’s height, suppressing a wince. “Your crew thinks otherwise, so does Gandalf. And, if you give me some time to get to know you, I’m sure I’ll get to think otherwise, _your majesty_”. He grabbed the sword from the ground. “I have some doubts about this one. It’s not Spartan, isn’t it?”.

Thorin took it, examining the fine blade of the kopis. His own looked like garbage compared to that one. “No, it’s too long —we prefer our spathas to be short”.

“Then it must be from the remnants of the battle of Troy, worthy of its own Iliad or Odyssey”.

“Hmm… does it have a name?”.

“I don’t know, you name it —it’s yours”.

Thorin’s breath ceased for a second, and he couldn’t help but look at Bilbo’s encouraging and bright smile, under those very fitting honey curls of his hair. Something awoke in him then, something warm and foreign. He looked back at the blade and cleaned it before placing it where his old one used to lay. He’d have to sharpen it. “What about you, Master Burglar? Won’t you need one for our quest?”.

“Don’t make me laugh —I have to call you Thorin and you pull off that <<Master>> shit?”.

“Bilbo, then- “, he said after taking a deep breath. “Aren’t there any other weapons in that chest, or even around the palace?”.

“Well… there’s Sting”.

“_Sting_?”.

Thorin stood up, decided to retrieve that “Sting”. The Hobbit signalled him which second floor he had retrieved the first sword from. After effortlessly climbing the same second floor, he opened the chest and saw a lonely dagger at the bottom of it.

“One would think that there’d be more weapons than just these two”, he said, loud enough so that Bilbo could hear him from the ground.

“Raiders”, the other replied. “They used to stop here on their way to Cephalonia for trade”.

Curious, the Dwarf climbed down and sat next to Bilbo as he gave him the dagger, who after taking it fastened it to his belt rudimentarily for the moment being.

“I know Spartan swords are rather short compared to the ones the Athenians use, but this… Balin would say that it looks like a letter-opener”.

The Hobbit groaned while Thorin allowed himself to laugh. With ease, they slipped into conversation, mostly about Bilbo’s life and his hunting at Ithaka, and Thorin’s descriptions of his crew members’ lives.

“You care about each other deeply more than if they were just a troop, don’t you?”, the former asked.

“They’re family, the people that decided to stay with me despite our fallout. They didn’t have to. As few as they are, they could have placed allegiance to the other Spartan King or the one that replaced our dynasty and go on, but they took us in, not only me but Dís and her kids when she had them”.

“Dís?”.

“My sister, Kili and Fili’s mother. She stayed back due to- “. Thorin halted. He had barely met the man, what was he doing oversharing like that? True, he had been kind enough… but trusting blindingly hadn’t brought the Durin family any good. Hadn’t his grandfather’s fall been caused by that very mistake? He stiffened movement that Bilbo quickly noticed. Still, the Hobbit asked another question.

“Do you have anyone important back in-?”.

“No”.

Bilbo blinked twice, surprised by the change of tone. He tried again: “So, you were- “.

“You don’t need to know”. His smile vanished from his visage_. Alright then_, Bilbo thought. His hand went instinctively to his satchel, all while he made to move away, forgetting the position his leg was in and inevitably yelping when he brushed his calf against the earth.

“Dear Asclepios, be merciful!”. Of course, stubborn as he was, he still stood up and paced towards the body of his wolf, having forgotten about the weird impulse coming from Gollum’s stolen possession. Thorin’s mood had gone back to his inaccessible persona, it wasn’t worthwhile trying to speak to him in such a circumstance. Once in front of the animal, he tentatively caressed its grey fur. _This has to be the Fates’ job_, he thought. _Wolves, right at Odysseus’ Palace of all places; where Eskimos and my parents died_. The beast was majestic, even at that state. They had decided to use its heart to make the offering in the end. If that couldn’t protect them during their journey, then what could?

Moments later, he began seeing the silhouettes of the company, returning with joy and what would surely be their feast. Hearing them laugh made the two of them smile again. _That_ felt like home.

“Which God are you more devoted to?”.

The company sat around the bonfire, delighting themselves with their boar meat and drinking watered wine —although everyone silently agreed that its quality wouldn’t ever reach the one the Hobbit had served them at home. Bilbo sat in between Bofur and Balin and had decided to ask a question to the latter.

“Are you asking us as Spartans, or which God do we Dwarves worship more?”. Balin said, scratching his whitening beard.

“The second one, I’d say”.

“Oh, then I suppose that’d be… Artemis, or Hephaestus. Don’t you think, Bofur?”.

The man in question gulped down his second kylix of the night before replying:

“Definitely! Although I would argue that Dionysus is being more influential to me than the twin gods, especially on these nights…”.

“Is that a way to justify you being a drunkard?”, Bombur mused a couple of seats away, bringing chuckles from Balin and Bilbo alike.

“Hey, come on! I’m so much more than that. I’m a proud Spartan too —and talking about the twins, Apollo would be fit too! I’m also a musician, one would even argue that a good one”.

Bilbo’s eyes suddenly shone like the stars, pleased at the information.

“You sing as well?”.

“Oh, he sings and plays the lyre _and_ the aulos like Orpheus himself. He’s the one who taught me”, Ori said, a proud smile on his face. At the mention, Bilbo recalled Ori at his andron as the young Dwarf playing music.

“I sure did!”, replied Bofur. “Nothing like a good shanty at night or the sea to liven up our spirits”.

“Master Baggins, before we jump onto another topic completely unrelated”, Balin pondered, “why did you ask about our devotions? For any reason in particular?”.

“Ah, I was just wondering who to make the offering to, since this mission will require your protection overall. I thought that giving the ashes to your patron would ensure better results and be more meaningful”.

The banter ceased, everyone starting at Bilbo in surprise. Religion meant a lot to the Hellenes, and Spartans took it even with more respect. The only one that didn’t seem fazed was Gandalf, who wore one of his signature knowing smirks, clearly having expected the Hobbit’s remark and its outcome. Or perhaps having seen it, who knows? Balin was the firsts to break the silence.

“That’s… very thoughtful of you. Now that I think of it, if no one objects, we could make the offering now. Gandalf?”.

The Wizard stood up and nodded, and they all prepared their prayers for the deed.

Once they were done, they sat once again around the fire. The original members of the crew watched the flames dance in vivid contrast against the darkness of the night, their joy having morphed into something so intimate and fragile that Bilbo could not put a name to it. There was so much he didn’t know about them yet, and still, he had climbed onto that ship hours ago, he had left his lifetime home. He was still uncertain, but perhaps that had been the reason why he had joined them in the end: his doubts were stronger than his reticence, and they had brought him to a journey —that hadn’t even begun!— where he was starting to feel more and more alive with every step he made. He caressed his wounded leg, thinking about his parent’s misfortune with a pack of wolves. Would his parents be proud of him? For not having led a conventional Hobbit life, and proving wrong not only his Shire neighbours’ impressions of him but the leader of the Dwarves’ too? He could already hear Gandalf in his head saying “of course they would!”.

He exhaled, and without thinking too much about it, he began singing, perhaps more to himself than to the crew.

“_Slumbering are the mountains, crest and chasm,_

_Ravine and precipice,_

_And every creeping thing on the earth's dark breast,_

_Beasts in their forest lairs and the tribes of the bees_…”.

All listened to him in silence, and when the next verse began, Bofur, Balin and Ori joined him, having recognised Alcman’s verses.

“_And monsters within the depths of the purple seas_: - “.

“_Slumbering too are the birds_”, Thorin joined. “_Their swift wings laid to rest_”.

Bilbo almost gasped, lifting his head and discovering the longing gaze the man had as he had sung to the fire.

“That”, Thorin said, “was a lovely tune, Master Baggins”.

The whole company trailed their eyes towards him, suddenly facing the fondest smile they’d ever expect coming from the Dwarf.

The following morning, the air got filled with excitement, and they had sailed early towards Phocis. The trip was nothing like Bilbo had ever experienced —not only because of the extended distance and the time it’d take to get to their destination but because of the spirits of their company, way more joyous than of their two-hour trip to Ithaca. Needless to say, the Dwarves were in their element.

“Here he comes, Master Baggins himself! —May I call you Bilbo instead?”.

“Please do, Bofur. Is there anything you need or that I could help you with?”.

“Aye, we have so much to catch on after that stunt you pulled off last night. You sang Alcman of all poets, one of Balin’s favourites, I reckon…”.

“Indeed, it is”, Balin stated, patting the Hobbit’s right shoulder. “Quite a shame that not all of the crew knew about it, they would have otherwise joined in a beat. Even sullen Thorin sang that last verse… And now I’m curious about which other poets we may both know”.

“Uh- well, whatever Gandalf brought to the Shire when he came back from his trips I read, I’m not picky when it comes to literature”. More like he _devoured_ everything he could read, to the point where he’d often write his own epigrams! But Bilbo wasn’t ready to expose himself like that just yet.

“Oh!”, Bofur interjected, visibly jolting. “Imagine the possibilities… You, my friend, are going to discover our favourite shanties in no time!”.

The other thing he’d learn in no time was that the Dwarves’ energy was more resilient than his: they sang, they aided the rowers and even sparred when the sea was calm and they were able to take a break! By the afternoon, Bilbo was exhausted —and they still had until the following day to get to land.

He sat near the rim of the ship, opting for observing the sea among them and catching his breath. The pain on his leg did not minimize his movements anymore, but it had started to sting over the night. He’d have to ask either Gandalf or Óin for some unguent, but he didn’t want to bother them just yet. When he saw their leader’s silhouette, he waved at him, remembering last night’s episode. Surprisingly, Thorin headed towards him and sat at his side, leaving a prudent distance between them in case the other wanted to rejoice in his intimacy. He opened his mouth, but said nothing and ended up closing. The result was him gaping for a few seconds, and when it was clear that he didn’t know what to say, Bilbo intervened, tracing the pattern of the vine embroidered on his satchel.

“You have a nice singing voice”.

And that’s all it took, a single compliment had always been enough to make Thorin stumble and stutter, no matter whom it came from.

“All…right”.

Bilbo sighed.

“As eloquent as always, I see. Well- “, he began, patting his knees. “I’ve been thinking about it; perhaps too much, perhaps not enough, who knows? And, the thing is… I do not know what we are supposed to do at Megaris. That’s where we’re headed after stopping at Phocis, that I know. Nevertheless… Is the famous staff there? Or- could it be that there’s someone who may know about it-?”.

If it was about military or strategic issues, then Thorin could manage to hold on a conversation. His confidence returned to his body, and he calmly answered him:

“Truth is, no one on this ship knows where the staff is. Gandalf has some conjectures on where he might find some clues, and that’s why he’ll go to Delphi to study that in more detail.”. He deflated, relaxing even more. “To be honest, we were already employed by the time our Wizard contacted us… by the Spartan tropes attacking Megaris. They requested our aid against the Athenians in exchange of dropping the krypteia out of our backs, to prove our loyalty and capacities”. At the end of the sentence, he stared straight against Bilbo’s eyes. “And we don’t know yet what you could help us with on the battlefield”.

Bilbo turned his head and examined the deck, looking for inspiration and squinting his eyes as he thought about it. Moments later, he sighed, resigned. “You’re right, I can’t do much without fighting skills”. He laughed, embarrassed, rubbing his temple. “I reckon hunting and assassinating are very different actions, and I couldn’t imagine myself ending Gollum’s life, to begin with- “.

“Who’s Gollum?”.

“What do you mean <<who’s->>… oh! My bad, you didn’t enter the cave at Koliadi. It was the creature we faced before you arrived at the bay”.

“Ah, the one that almost got you killed”.

“Careful! Someone could say that you care about me if you keep reprimanding me”, he said jokingly. He didn’t expect Thorin’s response, as straight-forward as ever.

“I do, you’re a crew member after all”, absentmindedly said Thorin as he played with one of the braids of his dark hair.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Am I, now?”. His question did nothing but strengthen the other’s smirk.

“Yes, Master _Burglar_\- “.

The Hobbit feigned offence, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh, sod off with the Burglar thing! I’ll have you know: I’ve never stolen a single thing in my life, I’m an honourable Hobbit first and foremost!”.

Thorin scoffed, never abandoning his smug smile. “Then the spathas from Ithaca were hereditary?”.

“Those- “.

“And that satchel that hangs too low on you is also yours?”, he said, reaching for it.

“I- “, Bilbo suddenly froze, holding the strap of the satchel close to him and erasing all trace of friendliness and colour off his face, as if something were taking over him. Something foreign. And the pain from his leg that he had been since bearing disappeared from his mind as well.

“That’s mine”, he stated, tone ice-sharp. The other, still not sure whether the other was playing with him or was actually upset, pushed further. _What’s up with the sudden hostility?_

“Then what’s inside that-?”.

Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s arm firmly, making sure he’d take him seriously while a dangerous wave of emotion ran through his veins.

“Listen, you egotistic bastard: the same way I don’t ask about your family’s past when you’re reticent to share, you won’t ask about my satchel or its contingents. They’re _my_ business alone. _Mine_”.

Thorin looked down to his arm, pulling off an effortless collected expression that hid well his innate surprise. Right when he thought he had their Hobbit figured out…

“I suggest you let go of my arm, else you’ll regret the outcomes”.

And, as if his skin suddenly burned, the man let go. The warmness returned to Bilbo’s eyes, although he did not dare to look back at the Dwarf. He exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath for a long time, and excused himself before he grew more diffident.

“Let’s… not talk about this any soon”.

He stood up, heading towards the bow of the trireme. Thorin stayed behind, glancing at Bilbo with sheer curiosity. No, he did not know the Hobbit well enough, but that demeanour change could not possibly fit with what he knew so far about him. That satchel… He had noticed it wasn’t his, his eyes were trained enough, yet he hadn’t paid it much attention until that moment. At that point, he could only wonder.

At the other side of the galley, Bilbo put his hand inside the stolen bag and felt the metallic objects: that strange triangle felt as oddly cold as it had the first time, but the ring… He played with it with his fingers, its touch magnetizing and alluring and-

He closed the satchel and breathed heavily. That was no ordinary ring, that he could tell, but he did not want to share his secret with anyone. He shuddered, perhaps at the realisation or because of the sharp wind of the sea, and headed towards Gandalf to ask for a spare chlamys or a palla for him.

By dusk, Bilbo had gone back to normal, excluding perhaps how he avoided Thorin like a plague because of his recent episode. When it wasn’t the Dwarf who drawing a feud between them, it had to be the other. The latter wondered whether there’d be a day when that wouldn’t happen. Unfortunately, or incidentally, they both were on the same galley, and confrontation was inevitable. Luckily for him, the other didn’t seem too offended by Bilbo’s behaviour —that, or he was a master at hiding it.

Gandalf was currently discussing his incoming affairs with Balin, Ori and Thorin, Bilbo silently standing around and listening to the wizard. He’d most certainly start feeling lost once his friend left them at Phocis, and that reminded him of something.

“When you head to Delphi’s and we to Megaris, how will we communicate with you if we’re ever in trouble?”. He took special care in saying _we_ instead of _I_.

The wizard’s eyes shone with glee, switching all of his attention to the hobbit.

“Ah, Bilbo, how pertinent. I’m glad you asked —I almost forgot about it! Ikaros!”. He called for his eagle, a majestic bird often seen flying the skies near Gandalf but never descending to greet him. “You probably already know this, but Ikaros is no ordinary eagle. If he chooses a bearer, he’ll aid them with scooping the area and delivering messages. It is said among the Xora of Delphi that his eyes would become one with its bearer’s”.

“Do you think one of the Dwarves could be his bearer?”, Ori asked, glancing at the sky and looking for the bird deserving of such descriptions.

“I don’t think, I saw!”.

Ikaros squealed, alerting the crew of his arrival and descending towards the little group around Gandalf. Bilbo made a step backwards from the others, admiring the gracefulness of the bird. He was nothing like the cuckoos that often came to greet him at his garden at Bag’s End. Unconsciously, he raised his arm as he did when the birds at his villa came to greet him. _You’re majestic_, he thought.

Thorin watched stupefied as the eagle settled on the Hobbit’s arm, and his guest cautiously petted it. When no one dared to break the bubble they had created, Balin spoke his mind to the Wizard:

“I thought you said a Dwarf would be the bearer!”.

“And yet, Ikaros chose dear Bilbo”.

As Bilbo began to process Gandalf’s words, the eagle flew away, apparently done with his presentation, and unfortunately leaving some scratches on Bilbo’s arm with his claws.

“Ouch! Blessed beasts…I’d better get a leather bracer if he’s going to do this often”.

“Ask Dori for one, I’m sure my brother will have a spare one. Here, I’ll accompany you!”, Ori suggested, perhaps being the second most excited about the happening, the first unsurprisingly being Gandalf.

“And go get that cleaned with Óin, I’m sure he’ll want to see you too”, Gandalf reminded.

Bilbo shifted somewhat uncomfortable but nodded nonetheless before leaving the group with the young Dwarf. Balin sighed, seeing how Thorin still stood bewildered and watched perplexedly at the Hobbit.

“Got into another discussion, did you?”.

Thorin eyed the floor, a bit disappointed for not being the eagle bearer and for his new feud with Bilbo that his old friend had so eagerly noticed.

“Believe me or not, he instigated this one this time”.

“Oh, we know, Thorin”, his paidonomos said, giving an accomplice look to Gandalf. “We’re a tad old, but not blind. The question relies on whether you’d be able to work it out and act more professional-“.

“You’re asking _me_ to be professional?”.

“Thorin- “, the Wizard calmly intervened. “Let him speak”.

Obdurate as he was, he crossed his arms and waited for Balin’s reply.

“I was asking on general terms, not about this specific feud. I’ll be accompanying Gandalf alongside Ori to the temple of Delphi, which means you’ll be on your own leading the company at Megaris. We know you to be nothing but a just and level-headed leader despite everything”, Thorin scoffed”- but if you can’t handle disagreeing with _one_ Hobbit because he’s… he happens to be…”.

“A bullhead?”, Gandalf offered.

“Yes, and as stubborn as you are, then we won’t get too far. So please, act like the middle-aged men you _both_ are”.

When the Durin heir raised his eyebrows at the declaration, the Wizard held him by the shoulder, trying to reassure him:

“I’ll talk to Bilbo as well, but you must understand that you’re both of equal importance for this quest”.

“I would never endanger our mission like that, just to be petty. You ought to trust me more”.

“Then show Bilbo that your intentions are in the best places”.

Thorin frowned. “Why should I?”.

“Because _you_ are the one he’s upset with, and _you_ are the one interested in _his_ cooperation, not the opposite”, Balin offered. “We’re not blaming you, just showing you what we see”.

“I’ve lived close to thirty years not knowing who to trust, treated worse than a helot by the Spartans. Obliterating all of that for an uncategorizable Hobbit- “.

“Alright! I get it. I’ll go talk to him”. Heavily exhaling, Gandalf headed towards Bilbo, who was _obviously_, Thorin thought, chatting amusedly with Ori’s brothers and Óin.

“Why does everyone trust him so blindly?”, he asked out loud.

“We don’t, but he does have a bubbly aura, doesn’t he?”, Balin pondered, observing the scene by his side. “Moreover, we trust Gandalf’s judgement. If not hope, what can we rely on?”.

They watched as Ikaros promptingly descended from the air to greet his new guest, and saw Bilbo’s sheepish smile widening up. The sunset painted an entrancing picture around them, bringing Thorin that foreign warmness he couldn’t yet name. Perhaps it was Eirene singing to his ear to look for her instead of kleos. After all the trouble he had brought to his companions for defending him and his legacy, he truly wanted Gandalf to be right, and for that positive figure that his companions were so ready to accept wouldn’t lead them to doom. _By all that’s holy, Zeus, let him be right_.

They arrived the following day at early morning to Kirrha, the port town where Gandalf, Balin and Ori left them to investigate about the staff at Delphi. Thorin waved solemnly at the little group on land and prayed to Apollo that their paths should bring light to them.

Gandalf seemed to have fulfilled his promise to Thorin, because during his less-than-a-day journey to the area of Tripodiskos Bilbo had gone to him and apologised. He hadn’t revealed anything about his impromptu behaviour or the satchel, which had annoyed him slightly, but since he wasn’t one to pry into personal affairs, he let it be. More at peace with himself, he busied himself. When he wasn’t helping the rowers with some of his crew, he was training with them, whilst Bilbo sat around and wrote on some parchments he later kept at the chest of the Adrestia. He made a mental note to ask about those later on, that was if he didn’t become as adamant to keep it a secret as he had done with the satchel. Either way, no one had seemed to disturb him while he wrote, which only empowered the peaceful vision of the Hobbit even more.

Finally, at dusk, they saw Mount Geranium of Megaris, which meant they were near the Spartan camp settled at Tripodiskos. It was, however, not the only thing they saw.

“Arrows!”, Dwalin commanded his men, seeing a fleet of Athenian biremes fighting against the Spartan ones. “Draw your bows!”.

Bilbo ran to the rim, for he had never seen a naval battle.

“Are we going to drown?!”

Thorin, who had moved to his side, laughed. “If there’s one thing no one can top Dwalin at, it’s his naval skill as a captain.”. And so, the darkening sky suddenly got filled with arrows —some even on fire! — and the screaming of hundreds of men, as the other galleys rowed against each other and rammed among them, the Adrestia carefully keeping their distance while Durin’s crew shoot their arrows. Bilbo had had to crouch once or twice to dodge an arrow towards them, but Dwalin’s techniques seemed to have put them in the safest place. Soon, the battle turned in favour of the Spartans, and when only a couple of the Athenian ships were left still willing to fight back, Dwalin ran to the rim, grabbed his javelin and thrust it to the air, successfully aiming and hitting his target: the pilum pierced and knocked down an Athenian hoplite of the nearest bireme, enraging the enemy’s troops. The Adrestia grew closer to the galley, and when they were side by side, the crew jumped in and fought against the weakened Athenians to the death with ease, all while Bilbo watched from the rim in awe.

Moments later, the screams of the Spartans as they hit their shields signalled their victory, and they all swam to the bay to meet the generals. Once at land, Bilbo looked back, there were still some ships left ashore, most of them on fire, and the firmament had turned grey. Everything had happened so quickly! He stumbled to reunite with his crew, keeping some distance as if not to be confused with an actual warrior.

“Your arrival on time and naval prowess quite helped us with those Athenians”, a sturdy Spartan captain greeted them. “I suppose you are the Dwarves that Bard sent to aid with the conquest of Megaris?”.

Thorin clasped his hand against the officer’s offering one.

“Aye. Thorin Durin, at your command”.

“Commander Lykaon. Ah, I wish you would have brought more men, however. Megaris is still under strong Athenian influence, and we do not know how many men would we be fighting against or what their strategy might be...”.

Nori strode next to him. “What if you employ some of us as skopoi?”.

“To gather intel and make a reconnaissance team? Huh, would be interesting to see that happen”, Lykaon scoffed, dismissing the proposed alternative.

Bilbo paced a couple of steps away, still invisible to the others' eyes as he hadn’t yet brought attention to himself, and took a couple of breaths before he saw Ikaros coming to him. He petted him once he was on his right arm, now wearing a bracer.

“Hey! Came to give me some purpose, Ikaros?”, he mused, soon feeling the adrenaline from the fight he had observed leave his body. Was that what Gandalf had meant with when he said “Zeus messenger”? If that was true, Ikaros would have to bring him a message or-

“Are you a Hobbit?”.

The commander Lykaon approached him, followed by the members of the Adrestia, causing his eagle to fly away and leave Bilbo exposed to whatever that Spartan wanted of him. _Not even a second of peace_, he thought.

“I sure am?”, he bowed. “Master Bilbo Baggins, at your service”.

The general scrutinized him with curiosity.

“Is it true that your race is light-feted, and as stealth as a lynx?”.

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but Nori beat him to it.

“Oh, yes! He’s our burglar!”. Thorin sent him a warning look that went unnoticed. “Besides, it is said that his eagle can show him what his eyes see, for it is Zeus’ messenger and he is the eagle bearer!”.

“Then that settles it. Guest of Eagles”, he gestured at the confused Hobbit” I’d like to employ your abilities as a skopoi, helping my men dismantle the Athenian’s plans… or at least understand what their plans are”. Quite satisfied with his declaration, the officer put a seal on his hand. “Show this to my liege so that they can recognise you’re under my command and are to be trusted. Would you see that fit, Master Durin?”.

Thorin heavily exhaled. That was not how he had planned things to go. Wagering about it, that would make Bilbo useful for their quest, but it left him powerless to decide. Wouldn’t that also be betraying a member of his company’s trust, leaving them by their own? A tad hesitant, he agreed with the terms, all while avoiding to look at his companion, and agreed to send his men to train with the rest of the Spartans at their camp. He posed one request before handing Bilbo into the claws of general Lykaon:

“Our _guest of eagles_ has no experience fighting. I demand that I’m allowed to accompany him during his employment”.

“Can’t do, Master Durin”, the general replied amusedly, raising a single eyebrow and crossing his arms. “The krypteia is still on your back, they need you to be at camp where they can track your loyalty to Sparta, not sparse meddling with the Athenian troops”.

Thorin repressed his urges to bit his lip and feigned indifference. “Then, if not myself, one of my men must”.

The general absentmindedly pointed at Nori. “You’ll do”.

The Dwarf happily strolled next to Bilbo, who could barely believe what was happening or what his task truly was. He held the seal firmly, colour draining from his face. It was just a mess after another, and he had barely had time to react. What was he supposed to do there, alone bare for the company of Nori? Why had he even signed up for this?

_Guest of Eagles_, ha! He’d never learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no excuse for delaying this, other than organising my time terribly and never knowing when to let go of a draft or not. Anyway, here's the second chapter of The Odyssey of the Hobbit and the Dwarf (or, as I have it on my folders, TOOTHATD). The two main characters seem to always find a way to anger each other despite the very short time they've known each other, and if they're not the ones responsible, then destiny (or that very strange ring...) will soon take place to meddle with their acquaintanceship. It's quite frustrating, but it seemed only fitting considering how stubborn they both are.  
Here are some notes about this chapter:  
Spartans were not well known for their naval victories, but for their combat on land. The opposite would fit the Athenians, but again I’m taking some artistic license.  
Paidonomos: adult Spartan supervisor of young children at the agoge (where they trained young Spartans)  
Kopis: A type of sword, common to Ancient Greece.  
Krypteia: A Spartan military institution that acted as a “secret service” trope. Perhaps I am misled, but some officers from the krypteia were responsible for the atrocities committed against the helots, so it’d be only fitting that such an institution would be on the Durin’s Company back.  
Chlamys/palla: Clothing items from the Ancient Greeks that vaguely resemble “capes” or scarfs”, as they go around one’s neck and cover one’s shoulders if long enough. They also acted as blankets for the cold.  
Eirene & kleos: The first is the Ancient Greek goddess of peace, and the latter an attribute sought by heroes, “glory”.  
Alcman: He was a Spartan poet of the VII century BC. His verses were well known for accompanying ceremonies such as the Gymnopaedia or battle outcomes. This excerpt of verses has been named “Slumbering are the Mountains”.
> 
> I hope everyone is feeling alright, and wish you a very good week!  
I cannot promise anything regarding when I'll publish the next chapter because I truly do not know when I'll allow myself to polish those drafts, but I'll attempt to get it done sooner this time. Best regards!.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this messy chapter! I fear that it may be too loaded with dialogue and that its pace might be faster than the actual pace I intended for the fic, but I'll do my best to improve. I will, unfortunately, upload slowly due to my disorganised agenda; but again, I'll try.  
The fic was inspired by jezunia's post https://tea-blitz.tumblr.com/post/183383301639/deepestfirefun-theincaprincess , in which Thorin is making a Spartan kick; and then... chaos erupted! All of a sudden, it made sense to mix the Middle Earth with Ancient Greece and Assasin's Greece, the only original thing being, therefore, the way I would put things together. It seemed like an okay idea in my head.
> 
> And now some optional notes regarding some vocabulary:  
1 → In this world, the Shire is located at the island of Cephalonia; right where the Eagle Bearer in AC Odyssey begins their, well, Odyssey. The fact that they were an ally to the Delian League during the Peloponnesian wars has been obliviated for plot purposes… please forgive me!  
2 → The "andron" was a room in the Ancient Greek house where only men were allowed to roam, and where they’d usually celebrate their “parties” or symposiums. The "Gynaikon" is “sort of” the counterpart of the andron: a space reserved to women only. Although this one wasn’t used for “partying” per se, but rather for the women and female visitors to chat while there were other male visitors at the house. They would also use the courtyard otherwise, to chat and do their chores.  
3 → Messenia was another ancient region of Greece with some interesting story concerning its rule and how the Spartans forced them to slavery. This fic will mess a lot with historical accuracy surrounding its origin. Sorry about that!  
4 → "Klinai" were something akin to modern recliners: long sofas where one would lay; although Greeks would use them to chat, drink and eat all together. Romans would later adopt the term Triclinium (of course), which would both refer to three klinē put together and the dining room.  
5 → "Kylixes" were recipients from which Greeks used to drink wine (which was watered to soften its taste). Google them up, their decorated ceramics are astounding!  
6 → I’m planning on making some art showing each character’s clothing, but in the meantime, I’ve found a ppt link that explains Ancient Greek clothing: https://slideplayer.com/slide/3784721/  
7 → This specific legendary Laconian staff is half an invention. And I say “half” because it’s tied to a staff in AC Odyssey and the historical Laconian staff or staffs, symbols of majesty in Sparta.  
8 → "Mákari": It’s an exclamation, often expressing a wish or a whim.  
9 → "Ela": This one’s weird, as they use it for various situations. It might mean “Hey!”, “Come on!”, “Halt!”, or of the sort.  
10 → The “aulos” is an ancient instrument, akin to a double flute, played in symposiums amongst other situations.  
I hope these notes were useful, and if they were misleading please tell me and I'll edit them.


End file.
